


The Ultimate Mind Palace

by Gwerinos, MizUndahStood



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Various Others - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark Comedy, Dark Sherlock, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, M/M, Magic, Multi, Omegaverse, Other, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 21:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9204956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwerinos/pseuds/Gwerinos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizUndahStood/pseuds/MizUndahStood
Summary: Look up in the sky. It's a bird. It's a plane.  *Splat* No, it's Sherlock.Alternate Universe where having survived the fall, Sherlock is horrifically injured and trapped inside his Mind Palace. His only means of communication is a fan fiction story which he emails to Mycroft. John Mycroft and his psychiatrist, Dr Andromeda Gale Eberhardt, try to 'break the code' in order to help Sherlock live 'the most fulfilling life he possibly can'.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The Happy Holiday Hacker stuck again. But do not be concerned we have a copy of 8 of the chapters that were deleted.

Title: The Ultimate Mind Palace  
by Gwerinos, MizUndahStood

Summary:  
Look up in the sky. It's a plane. It's a bird. *Splat* No, it's Sherlock.  
Alternate Universe where having survived the fall, Sherlock is horrifically injured and trapped inside his Mind Palace. His only means of communication is a fan fiction story which he emails to Mycroft. John Mycroft and his psychiatrist, Dr Andromeda Gale Eberhardt, try to 'break the code' in order to help Sherlock live 'the most fulfilling life he possibly can'.

 

Notes:  
Thanks to Tara Westwood who Betaed this chapter for us.  
Music for this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7DiWxcilWtU&index=10&list=PLCv_EzyA6D3XJiWJ-eKzOmIB7eCqV2B6G

 

Published at: 2016-11-23  
Revised at: 2016-12-13 07:00:00 -0500

Chapter 1: And So It Begins

'And so it begins.'

Anthea knocked on the door of Mycroft's office in Vauxhall House and then opened the door. "Sir, the Doctor is here."  
"Doctor?" Mycroft asked. "Doctor who?"  
"THE Doctor, Sir."  
Head of UNIT, Kate Stewart entered along with Sherlock. "What is this? I don't have time for your games today, Sherlock."  
"It's no game, Mycroft. Time to get off your arse. The Khan Directive is now active," Sherlock said.  
"How do you know about that?" Mycroft demanded.  
"I wrote it, dear brother."  
"You can't be serious."  
"I assure you, he is. And he is THE Doctor," Kate Stewart told him.  
Mycroft gave Sherlock an icy glare, "Stop this at once, Sherlock. It's one thing to pretend to be me to break into government buildings but this is beyond a joke," Mycroft told him angrily.  
"I'm sorry, Mycroft. But this is no joke. I am the Doctor." Sherlock replied steadily.  
"Am I to understand that this happened right under my nose? How did this come to pass? Why on earth were you chosen?"  
"Last time I died...All my Galifreyan genetics were disintegrated. The regenerative energy found the closest genetic match to my human DNA. But I had to be born and grow up all over again," Sherlock told him.  
"This sounds awfully fanciful, Sherlock. Are you high?" Mycroft asked in exasperation.  
"The Doctor confirmed it," Kate said. "Sherlock is the Doctor regenerated without Galifreyan genes. He does contain the regenerative energy of the Doctor."  
"This is all too much to take in." Mycroft replied while he rubbed his temples.  
"Yes, yes... Mycroft. There are more shocks for you in store. I am also Khan. And the drugs were to stop my brain from frying. A human body is ill equipped to house a Time Lord."  
Mycroft flopped into his office chair and the color drained from his face. He covered his face with his hands as he spoke. "I... I need time to make sense of this, Sherlock. Or is it Doctor Sherlock? Or..."  
"President, actually," Kate said. "The Khan Directive is in effect."  
Mycroft groaned behind his hands and Sherlock sighed. He didn't like that he had to hide from his brother. "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you, so many times. But I couldn't. I couldn't risk the timeline. Fixed point in time and all that."  
There was a long silence in the room.  
"I'm still your brother," Sherlock said quietly.  
"I honestly don't know what I find most stunning, that you've kept this secret for so long without confiding in me, or that you are now responsible for life as we know it." Mycroft uncovered his face and looked up at his brother. Sherlock hated the lost look on Mycroft's face and the look of defeat in his eyes, it didn't suit him one bit. "So, where do we go from here? Have you confided in anyone? Did you struggle with this all alone, Sherlock?"  
Sherlock looked drained and distressed. "I'm also the most hated man in Earth's history. Some will call me the Anti-Christ." He took a step towards Mycroft. "But I can't do this without you. If I don't maintain the timeline, it's not only Earth that will suffer."  
"I want to make sense of this. To get up to speed so that I can assist you in any way that I can. You don't have to do this alone. I'm here for you, brother dear. And I truly mean that."  
Mycroft's voice was unusually compassionate and there was a hint of sincerity in his eyes that let Sherlock know that he could count on his brother. But he wasn't sure how much to let on.  
"You aren't going to try to hug me, are you?" Sherlock asked with disgust even though he wiped a tear from his eye betraying his emotions.  
"Perish the thought." Mycroft huffed a watery laugh. "Unless you'd like me to."  
"Have you ever known me to hug anyone but John?" And Mommy, he added in thought. Even as a child the only one whom he let hug him was his brother Wallace, until they were parted they were inseparable.  
"Well. Enough said. But, Sherlock..." Mycroft paused, and stepped around his desk. "Don't forget that there are others who have not only your mission goals, but your best interests at heart."  
"I have many great and powerful enemies, Mycroft. They will try to stop us, in every way they possibly can," Sherlock told him. "But I can tell you that you and I and all our brothers will survive this. 73 people including myself who will survive this."  
"All the more reason to vet a select handful of people and create a very tightly knit inner circle. We need to be kept in the loop, and you will need to have people you can trust with their mouths shut, and ears open." Mycroft nodded, back to his normal self.  
"The President has made it quite clear to me that if he should die there will be no regeneration and both Earth and Gallifrey will be lost," Kate said.  
"I think you should start getting used to calling me Khan," Sherlock told her.  
"Yes sir. I mean, um... Khan."  
"I think not, little brother. The fewer people who know that you are Khan the better. We should keep that name as a code," Mycroft told him.  
"Quite right. Then Kate...you must call me Sherlock." Sherlock put his hand to his head and staggered. "I either need a good dose of morphine or to be infected with the virus now. This brain is not going to last long while I am using it to this capacity."  
"Sherlock, morphine is right out of the question. I know someone who can help you, if you'll allow me to make the introduction."  
"I know. Those days are over. The zombie virus will have arrived at the lab by now. Mycroft, you need to be infected as well. I'm sorry. It will be intensely painful for a short time but you will survive and be quite surprised by the result," Sherlock replied. "I don't think anyone can help with this."  
"I'm not looking forward to this, Sherlock. But, I trust you if you say it's what needs to be done."  
"There's no other way forward for us. Needs must, and this is part of the timeline. We can make you comfortable as humanly possible as you undergo the procedure. That I can assure you, Mycroft."

#

Dr Martha Jones of UNIT was waiting for the three of them in the infirmary in the first basement of the building. "I need your names, age and any physical infirmities. Remove your shoes, belts, coats and any restrictive clothing. Remove contacts if you have them as well as dentures and any other artificial aids," Martha told them when they arrived, handing them each a form to fill out.  
Sherlock handed back his form when he had filled it out. She looked up sharply from it. "Doctor?"  
Sherlock nodded.  
"But, I thought... I..." Martha stuttered as she tried to find the words.  
He smiled and stood there while she hugged him. "Well. Good. Enough of that, then. We have an intake to complete, do we not?"  
"I'm going to give each of you a sedative to ease the transition. Tests with volunteers so far have shown that there are varying levels of discomfort and pain and the sedative wears off very quickly, so please let me know if you require more or painkillers at any time. This can take up to three hours to complete," Martha told them. "Do I really need to do this with you, Doctor?"  
"Sherlock, please. And yes. I'm just human at the moment."  
Martha looked at him with a newfound sense of adoration, but got on with the task at hand.  
Mycroft took in the entire interaction with some interest, making mental notes as he followed Doctor Jones' instructions to the letter.  
"I should warn you that this will change your genetic structure. You will literally no longer be Homo Sapiens but Homo Augment," Martha told them. "It is not too late to back out."  
"No. We must do this. There will never be an opportune time. So, it may as well be now. Please proceed Doctor Jones. We're well aware of the ramifications."  
Kate's was the easiest transition, as she was immune. It took longer with Mycroft who had a fever for an hour but his pain levels were tolerable after a few minutes. Sherlock however was still writhing in pain, three hours later. Mycroft sat on the bed next to his and watched him worriedly. "Is there nothing you can do for him?"  
"We've given him the maximum amount of painkillers that we can, IV push. Except for ice baths to keep his temperature down, and a dextrose drip, there's not much more we can do for him. He's hovering at the edge of consciousness, but he knows that you're here. Please talk to him, Mr Holmes. He needs you."  
Mycroft took his hand and held it. "I'm here for you, Sherlock. You can do this."  
Martha scanned him. "He is growing new organs...female reproductive organs as well as both Alpha and Omega pheromonal glands. This is very rare, according to the data."  
"My little brother has always been a rare specimen," Mycroft said. "He is very strong and determined."  
"The Doctor has always had unusual biomarkers, but this is extraordinary! It's absolutely fascinating. I've never seen anything like it."  
Mycroft told her what Sherlock had told him about how he became not only human but his little brother. "I should be angry or even horrified that an alien has hijacked my mother to get a body. But I'm neither."  
"Well, Mr Holmes, we are in the midst of extraordinary times. I'm certain that this is not the last unusual occurrence that we'll see. I hope you're ready to deal with all of the changes that come with becoming an Augment."  
"No one can ever be ready for what Sherlock will do next," Mycroft replied.  
"If I catch his drift, he's not ready either. But we're all here to stand by him, no matter what. I promised that when I took this job," Martha explained.  
"If I remember correctly women don't develop the pheromone glands. But I can distinctly smell something...pleasant," Mycroft commented.  
"That's not pheromones. That's one of my colleagues, performing an experiment. She's created personal scents for all of us clinic workers."  
"I thought perfume was frowned upon for medical workers?"  
"It's not really perfume. My signature scent is green grass, paper and soap."  
"Interesting but I don't think that is what I am smelling..." Mycroft leant closer to Sherlock and then suddenly jumped to his feet dropping his brother's hand in alarm.  
"Mr Holmes! What is it?"  
Mycroft backed away from Sherlock's bed almost falling onto Kate who was resting. "Sherlock...It's Sherlock...I...I can't stay...Oh, dear god! I never thought about this." He picked up his coat holding it in front of himself.  
Kate blushed. "Mycroft is an Omega?" she asked Martha.  
"It never occurred to me that relatives could react so strongly to each other based on pheromones. Sherlock's scent must be very strong for his own brother to react in such a way. I need to make a few calls."  
"Doesn't everyone react like that to the Doctor?" Kate asked, still blushing.  
Sherlock suddenly sat up. He was drenched in sweat. "Well, that was unpleasant. I'm glad that's over with."  
"Sherlock! You're back!" Martha pushed past Kate to begin reading his vital signs.  
"Back? Did I go somewhere?"  
"You were barely conscious for hours."  
He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He smiled at her strangely. "I never did tell you how beautiful you are."  
"I'm sure you had other things on your mind. But it's never too late. Not that it matters. I got on with my life, and so did you."  
"I'm sure I had many things on my mind, always have, but that is no excuse. You are beautiful Martha Jones." Sherlock suddenly cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.  
"Mmmm... Mmmm!! NO!" Martha pulled back and shook her head. "I'm not the same Martha you knew before. I admire you, but I'm not pining away for you anymore. I couldn't wait for you." Martha held up her left hand and showed Sherlock her wedding set.  
Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. "So you're married. So am I." He stretched and grabbed his belt, starting to redress himself and put his clothes in order.  
"Good for you. I hope she'll be able to keep up with you. She must be phenomenal to be worthy of your time and affection."  
"I have never actually met her. Not this body, at least. She died before I was born. You know I never could work out why the Time Lords never developed a convenient tense to use."  
Martha laughed out loud. "As ever, it sounds complicated. Do you remember her? What was she like?"  
He cupped her chin. "Doesn't mean we can't have a bit of fun. River would even have joined us."  
"Well, even if I were so inclined - making overtures in the middle of a ward is hardly discreet. Think I'll pass for now."  
"Discreet? Who cares about discreet? Sex isn't a national secret. But the 'for now' sounds promising."  
"I reserve the right to change my mind. But this time, you'll need to earn it." Martha leaned in and pressed her lips to the shell of Sherlock's ear. "If you want me, woo me. Make me want you again."  
Sherlock stepped back and bowed to her, slightly. "I have someone else I want to finish wooing first."  
"I know. Or at least I think I do. I've seen your pupils dilate looking at two different people. Not sure which one turned you on more. Him or her..."  
"Unfinished business doesn't mean I can't take on new projects," Sherlock dared. "New body, new me, I'm almost virginal."  
"Sherlock, are you quite alright?" Mycroft asked from the doorway, keeping some distance from him. "You are acting...strange."  
"Merely outwardly expressing my inner feelings, dear brother. You will have to get used to it. It is a side effect of the transition."  
"Sentiment? Really Sherlock?"  
"Well...impulses might be a better word. More lust than love."  
"As long as you're certain which is which, I suppose there shouldn't be any problems."  
"I am still your neighbourhood sociopath," he replied. "Just a little more animated."  
"Do tread lightly, brother dear."  
"Why?"  
"This is not your area. Never has been."  
Sherlock straightened up and stared Mycroft directly in the eyes. "Irene and Hamish will be arriving tomorrow. I expect you will have instructed that they be allowed into the country."  
"Of course, Sherlock. By the by, who is this Hamish bloke, anyway? Is he someone of import?"  
"There is no one of more importance in the whole world."  
"Not to put too fine a point on things, but that hardly answers the question, brother mine."  
Sherlock walked up to Mycroft and whispered in his ear so that no one else there could hear. "He is my son."  
Mycroft's knees wobbled, and clutched the air around him, groping for a solid surface to steady himself. He found only Sherlock to hold onto and Sherlock held him. "And he is a Gallifreyan. There must have been a residual of my old genetics."  
"My God, Sherlock. A son. With Irene?"  
Sherlock hugged Mycroft to him and grinned. "And finally he can be with me."  
"I'm an uncle?" he chuckled, and shook his head.  
"Let's go back to your office so we can be alone to talk. Your office isn't bugged is it?"  
"What?!" Mycroft's eyes flew open wide. "No, there are no ambient recording devices in my office."  
"Not as nice as your room at the club, but it will do."  
"Yes, I suppose it will."  
Mycroft was nearly dragged along by Sherlock who was walking so fast that Mycroft's feet barely touched the ground until they were in his office. "You have questions. Questions that no one else can hear the answers to."  
"Yes, I suppose I do. But are you ready to give me the answers to those questions? I'd rather not play tiddlywinks or twenty questions with you."  
"I will answer anything you ask."  
"Fair enough, Sherlock."  
"Strange, isn't it? Once you know I will answer you the questions seem to fade away. You are struggling now to work out what you want to ask first."  
"Of course I am. That's just human nature. It's natural to breathe a sigh of relief when you realize that you have the latitude to be open and honest."  
Sherlock walked to the window of Mycroft's office and looked out over the river. "I'm afraid," he said. "I know what has to be done but everyone will be against me and not even you will understand why I do the things that need to be done."  
"Perhaps you should take a step back, and allow me to decide for myself, Sherlock. I'm fully capable of letting you know if I'm becoming overwhelmed."  
"You don't have to worry about the drugs anymore. This body is now sufficient to house a Gallifreyan mind."  
"That's one set piece out of the way. On to the next..." Mycroft shrugged.  
"I don't have a headache. I think this is the first time that I have been completely free of pain," Sherlock told him.  
"I am trying to get my brain around this, Sherlock. How long have you known this information?"  
"1st January 2000, Captain Jack Harkness arrived on my doorstep with a watch, a pocket watch. He believed that it would transform my body back into a Gallifreyan. It didn't. It just made my headaches worse. But it did explain who I am and why."  
"And why did you not confide in me Sherlock? It's not the sum total of the information that's difficult as much as the trust factor. I don't understand why..." Mycroft shook his head. "Why did you not trust me to have your best interest at heart?"  
Sherlock turned to look at Mycroft. "I have always trusted you. Since that day that Wallace went missing, you have been my protector, even from myself. It wasn't a matter of trust. It was a matter of protecting you. Everything in your life has led up to you being ready for this. I've been training you for 14 years."  
"I don't know quite what to say to that. Feeling like a bit of a lab rat at the moment, though."  
"Oh, don't think I have all the answers, Mycroft. I'm struggling through this as much as you. The only difference really is that I have the absolute certainty of what must be. How to get there is a grey area and in that I need help. You are Director of Administration. I know you have just about memorized the Directive. You know that your importance is..." Sherlock tilted his head. "Important."  
"Having the knowledge base to run a government is one thing. But that seems superfluous when compared to having responsibility for the fate of humanity as a whole."  
"Kate calls me President of the Earth. Well, you are my vice-president. But make no mistake, the most important person on this planet is Hamish John Scott Adler Holmes. His fate determines the survival of the human race and the very existence of the Gallifreyans."  
"The survival of the future Galifreyan bloodline is indeed important."  
"Information for your ears only, dear brother. Hamish has the only Gallifreyan DNA in existence, apart from me. Though two others, possibly have the equivalent in human DNA to add to the Gallifreyans, he will start the Gallifreyan species. We must get him safely to Gallifrey. At the moment the planet is uninhabited. There are no Gallifreyans, no civilization, nothing but an uninhabited planet."  
"And the future of humankind depends on repopulating Gallifrey?"  
"Not re-populating. Beginning the Gallifreyan species. Why do you think we look like you?" Sherlock smiled. "Gallifrey is a human colony."  
"And the entire goal of the Khan Directorate is to govern the last days of Earth, while choosing amongst the survivors of Zombie Flu to live on Gallifrey?"  
"No. Earth and the human race survives. They will go on to become a very powerful Federation that will be the bane of Gallifrey for millennia. But that will strengthen Gallifrey to become the most powerful planet in this galaxy, perhaps even the entire universe," Sherlock told him. "We are here for another 5 years and a few months. When I said that Gallifrey is a human colony, I meant Homo Augments."  
"And are the first future inhabitants predestined? Or are they in the grey area you mentioned? Do you have foreknowledge of every detail of existence until the end of time?" Mycroft's eyes glazed over as he contemplated his own question. "My God, Sherlock..."  
"Yes and no," he replied. "I know that 73 Augments and their associatives founded Gallifrey. I don't know the fate of anyone else. 200 of us will be placed into cryopods. That knowledge nearly killed me. You know what happened to me on the 21st of January 2000. You were the one who found me and took me to hospital."  
"I found you in that damnable doss house in Brixton. Just in time, as it turned out."  
"Did I ever thank you for that? I don't think I did. I did curse you a lot. I made your life hell. I'm not sorry. It helped prepare you."  
"Par for the course, brother mine. It may have prepared me, but it tore me apart to keep fetching up Shezza from every dodgy situation imaginable."  
"You know how muscles are built? Of course you do. You have to damage them to build them. The stronger muscle tissue replaces the weaker. It's why exercise hurts."  
"Spare me the biology lesson, Sherlock."  
"If it helps,I believe Lestrade is among the 73," Sherlock smirked. "As soon as he is infected you can stop giving him secretive glances."  
"Well, that's an interesting bit of information, one might suppose."  
"Anthea, does not. Don't waste your feelings on her."  
"That's too bad. She was the most well trained, knowledgeable assistant I've ever had. Shame."  
"Watch your tenses, dear brother. People will notice. By all means shag her senseless for the next couple of years but don't lose your heart to her. Lestrade is the one you should open your heart to." Mycroft smiled as broadly as he was capable. When Sherlock noticed his brother's expression, he quirked a brow, and made a mental note. "Homo Augments have no inhibitions. Though it might take a short while to get over ingrained societal expectations. We will need to breed freely when we get to Gallifrey and the genetics of Homo Augments does not inhibit the breeding between family members."  
"That explains the reaction I had in the infirmary."  
"Yes, speaking of that... can you recycle the air in here faster or I might just take you over your desk."  
"Oh! For heaven's sake, Sherlock!!" Mycroft dialed up a virtual control panel, and hurriedly began tapping keys to change the ambient airflow in his office.  
"I make no excuse, Mycroft. As you are well aware these impulses are quite new to me and Augment chemistry is quite potent," Sherlock told him. "Take it as an indication of my affection for you."  
"Dear God..." Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Are you quite sure about Lestrade? I'd hate to make a fool of myself."  
"Baby Boy Holmes-Lestrade is recorded as one of the first generation of Gallifreyans."  
"I look forward to getting to know him much better. He's been a sort of confidant to me for many years."  
Sherlock smiled. "Then should we bring Lestrade and John in to be infected under safe conditions?"  
"Absolutely. Besides being in charge of medical facilities directorate wide, how does John figure into this? I assume you have plans for him, going forward?"  
"He is the father of my children," Sherlock told him. "Which reminds me we do have a good supply of condoms, I hope? Distribute them freely to the Augments. Other birth control does not work on Augments."  
"Well, how about if we distribute them to everyone?"  
"You mean to keep it secret who is an augment? I don't think that will work."  
"We have inroads as to the means of production, so running out isn't an issue."  
"Running out is not the issue. Augments are quite noticeable. When we first transition, it is difficult to hide our abilities. We must learn to use them. I am sorry to have to do this, Mycroft but I need to give you the names of those known to turn into Augments so that they can be assisted. We must keep track of them because the last few months on this planet we will be fighting for our lives. Augments will be hunted down. It isn't logical but people rarely are logical. We will be blamed for everything."  
"Now I understand why you would resort to self soothing to make sense of all this. What an oppressive secret to carry."  
"Apparently, I am the Antichrist."  
"Surely you don't mean that? You're practically the savior of an entire genome."  
"That won't matter to the people who will hunt us. We will become something that they don't understand. And they will try to eliminate us, rather than assimilate us into their society. That's why we must leave this planet, Mycroft. It's imperative for our survival."  
"The Neanderthals wiping out Homo Sapiens," Mycroft muttered.  
"Augments are virtually immortal," Sherlock told him. "That is not acceptable to mortals."  
Mycroft took a deep breath and held his head in his hands. "Change of subject, brother dear. As the current topic is doing my head in, let's say we adjourn for tea?"  
"I think we should get out of this office. Perhaps that nice cafe on the ground floor. I am surprisingly hungry."  
"Yes. There's a lovely executive dining facility there. It looks quite like my old haunt. That notwithstanding, I think you will enjoy it as well."  
When they came out of the lift on the ground floor Mycroft was surprised to see that there was a great many armed uniformed UNIT officers escorting or more like directing the flow of MI5 and MI6 workers out of the building. "Getting rid of the rabble to make way for the Khan Directorate," Sherlock told him. Some of the people leaving were not going quietly.  
Mycroft took in the scene with great interest. Craning his neck to look for any displaced colleagues.  
"Don't, Mycroft... Don't look, and please try not to make any eye contact." Sherlock admonished.  
"Who determined who would stay and who would go?" Mycroft asked.  
"You did in your last security sweep of Vauxhall."  
"What?"  
"You submitted a report that was a conglomeration of reports that you had received on everyone in Vauxhall House. On that basis, I received several reviews of that report and determined who would be best suited to our purpose. Survival is our first priority," Sherlock told him.  
The color drained from Mycroft's face as he was shepherded across the lobby to the cafe. He had no idea that a simple bit of administrative house keeping would lead to such an immediate and drastic downsizing of Vauxhall personnel.  
"The world has just changed, brother. You must keep up with your own immediate concerns and not let those of others blind you."  
Mycroft looked on his brother with a newfound respect. The man before him was definitely not the disaffected, drug addled genius that he was familiar with. This was new for Mycroft, and he decided that he definitely needed that tea to help process everything that he's learned so far.  
"It's a good thing that I am a high functioning sociopath or I would not be able to survive this. I will seem unfeeling and cruel and at times I will be. But we must keep in mind that the survival of all will mean the death of nearly half the population of the planet."  
"Well, I suppose hovering on society's fringes will serve you well, Sherlock."  
Mycroft lead him to the back of the cafe and up a staircase to a private dining room. "Oh, I like this. This is more like my library than the stark glass and metal of Vauxhall," Sherlock said.  
"Well, we will have need of such areas. Places to remove ourselves from the responsibilities that constantly bombard us. Everything has a purpose. Designed with psychological impact in mind. Very subtle, but extraordinarily important to keeping up with mental health and morale."  
"Hopefully there will be a spare office with this sort of decor available for me to move into and I will need one of Vauxhall's private apartments. I can't stay at 221B any longer. Much as I will miss it. I know you thought it rather slummy, but I was quite comfortable there," Sherlock told him.  
"It was beneath you, Sherlock. But I understood its attraction. Inexpensive, and centrally located."  
"Mrs Hudson needed a tenant with whom she felt safe. John needed a place to live, and I needed to be in the heart of London. There was no way to fulfill all that at the apartment block that you were living in, and I say 'were', brother, because you will have to move here now."  
Mycroft nodded as he took in Sherlock's explanation of their housing situation. He was too stunned by the day's events to raise any objections.  
"Oh...and please send people to Mrs Hudson's flat. She died early this morning in her sleep. I will miss her."  
Mycroft's breath hitched in his throat. He was taken aback by Sherlock professing emotions, while still sounding so entirely matter of fact.  
"Yes, of course. We'll see to the arrangements straight away. I'm sure you'll miss her. She had quite a stabilizing influence in your life. Herbal soothers aside..."  
"I was surprised that it wasn't the zombie virus that did it. Her heart just stopped," Sherlock said.  
"I suppose you're thankful that she went peacefully. I wish you could have been there for her."  
Sherlock wiped his eye and picked up the menu as he took a seat. He grinned at the menu. "Do they have chips? I rather like chips."  
"Yes, not only do we have chips, you can request they be made from any one of several different vegetables. I do know how much you love variety. Best thing to stave off boredom."  
"It will be a while before I get bored again. At the moment I am thinking about how to best guard against the zombies, what to eat, what I want to move from Baker Street, several different plans to safeguard the Augments and whether or not I want a single bedroom apartment or one of the larger apartments and live with someone. What do you recommend?"  
"To eat, fish and chips are always excellent here. As far as your living arrangements, we certainly can provide you with a lovely flat. It's been reserved for occupancy by upper tier personnel. Whether you care to share or not is strictly up to you. Given your security concerns, any flat mate would need to be chosen with the utmost caution."  
"Would you care to share? I know that there is an apartment at Kestrel House at St George's Wharf. A six bedroom apartment, I believe. We could share with our brothers. I know it has excellent security." Sherlock asked hesitantly as if expecting Mycroft to reject the idea out of hand.  
"That particular dwelling would be perfect, quite actually. Especially since it has secure comms already hardwired."  
"The 6 bedroom apartment at Triplex Penthouse, Kestrel House?" Sherlock asked.  
Mycroft sighed. "You already have people moving us in, don't you?"  
Sherlock quirked a sly brow, and his eyes darted from side to side.  
"It is too open to aerial attack."  
"It has bulletproof glass in the windows and who but our trusted brothers will know that we are there?"  
"You've given this some consideration, haven't you?"  
"I've had 14 years to plan this. Khan Directorate personnel are already living in most of the other apartments," Sherlock replied. "Wallace has been living there ever since you found him."  
"Very well. I'll need some time to select which of my personal effects to pack and have ready for the moving company."  
"Keep in mind that we will lose everything but the clothes we stand up in in 5 years time," Sherlock told him. "They are just things, Mycroft."  
"Understood, Sherlock. But, I do want to live my life until then with a modicum of comfort. Not luxury, just a few things to make the time less distressing."  
Sherlock looked up sharply and put his finger to his lips. In a few seconds the waiter came in with their order. "That will be all, thank you," Sherlock said.  
"Yes sir, please don't hesitate to let us know if there will be anything else you'll be needing during your meal. Enjoy..."  
"You don't have to fear for your job. You are not one of the ones who are being ejected," Sherlock told him.  
"Just doing my job, sir."  
Sherlock waited until the waiter was back downstairs. "Make sure that your people know to be discreet about what we are doing here. I don't want a rush of people trying to seek shelter here."  
"Rest assured that the denizens of Kestrel have been fully vetted, and only include those that could pass the most stringent security and background checks that we have. No plebs allowed. Even the arrangement of residents was carefully considered."  
"Along with everyone else in St George's Wharf apartment complex." Mycroft had never seen Sherlock eat so much and he was quite a bit more hungry himself. He put it down to the transition they had undergone that morning. "I want Mary Watson and Wallace to be my bodyguards. Is that acceptable?"  
"What a novel idea. Certainly no one would suspect either as being your personal security detail." Mycroft continued shoveling food into his mouth as he spoke. Sherlock stopped eating for a moment to stare at his brother. But he blithely shrugged and simply went back to his meal. "I will run this past Lestrade, if it's okay with you." Mycroft licked his fingers, and hummed as he ate.  
"Lestrade will become Director of Security as soon as he has transitioned," Sherlock said. "He is quite capable. He follows orders but isn't shy in giving them. He has had to work with idiots for far too long."  
"Agreed." Mycroft munched, and nodded. "Sherlock...?"  
"Mmmph?"  
"Is it me? Or is this the single most superlative fish and chips that you've ever had?"  
"Heightened senses, dear brother. The world will seem quite different to you now. My own are returning to something near to what I am accustomed to. But to you it will seem very new."  
"If transitioning means food tastes this good, I'm going to order spare parts for my treadmill."  
"No need. You can now eat as much as you want without gaining weight. In fact by tomorrow morning you will be at your optimum weight."  
"That's tremendous. Ummm... Sherlock? You going to finish that cod? I'd hate to see it go to waste." Sherlock pushed the plate nearer so that Mycroft could pinch his fish.  
"I see that you have read all the Directive information but not realized the consequences of the transitioning," Sherlock smiled. "Do be careful, dear brother. You are much stronger than ever before. Don't accidentally break someone's hand when you shake it. I will swap you more of the chips. In fact can you order a second plate? And bananas and custard."  
"Seconds!! And Banoffee Pie!!" Mycroft's eyes gleamed with joy. "Yes, please."  
Mycroft had not seen Sherlock quite so happy for many years, though John had assured him that Sherlock had been happy before the fall.  
"So have any more personal questions come to mind?" Sherlock asked. "Like Hamish..."  
"Well, yes." Mycroft smacked his lips. "I assume you've made arrangements for his care? And what of his mother, Sherlock? You are aware that she's considered something of a security risk?"  
"Of course, I am. Irene will not be allowed into Vauxhall House ever, or even Kestrel House. She will have a 2 bedroom apartment at St George's Wharf where Hamish will live with her. As for her fate, I have no idea. But she is not among the 73. Make use of her as you wish."  
"She's not my type, really."  
"She might make a good spy if we could depend on her to actually tell us what she has learnt but I doubt it."  
"She's a rogue elephant, brother dear. Someone to be kept under strict surveillance at all times."  
"I don't want her taking Hamish out of St George's Wharf. It's a big enough area with swimming pools and playgrounds to keep a little boy occupied. In fact perhaps we should restrict her to the wharf as well."  
"We can restrict her, without letting on that we're keeping a weather eye on her. Perhaps we should give her a function of some sort? Sex educator, perhaps?"  
"She is Hamish's mother so I don't want any harm to come to her. As I said you can find her whatever use she can be to you."  
"To my way of thinking, if we bring people to her, she'll not have need to roam around."  
"Her...companion recently left her..." Sherlock looked at Mycroft. "I guess you are wondering how it is that Hamish exists."  
"All the more reason to find her an occupation. And yes, of course I have been wondering how it is that Hamish came into being."  
"She isn't a whore, Mycroft. She is a dominatrix. When you sent John to tell me that she had gone to America, and you really should have come to tell me that you thought she was dead, I knew that she was not in the States and not dead. I expected better of you, Mycroft. That was...it was as if you were afraid of me."  
"She's trouble. Always has been. I have a dossier on her that weighs nearly two kilograms. We cut her loose, hoping that her hens would come home to roost, and she found her way back into your life anyway."  
"You cut her loose because you thought someone would kill her and take away the responsibility," Sherlock told him. "I went to rescue her. She was grateful...very."  
"Oh, of course she was. So naive, brother dear. As always, you were nothing more than a means to an end for her."  
"It was inevitable that I lose my virginity eventually, Mycroft. The situation presented itself. And you must admit that she is attractive and intelligent."  
"No. I don't have to admit either one. Where you see someone worthy of expending your intellectual prowess, I simply see a predator. The most charitable word for anyone of her ilk is opportunist."  
"Really not your type, ill equipped to arouse you," Sherlock teased. "And no one is equal to my intelligence, at least not on this planet. Planet of the pudding brains. If it wasn't for those like yourself, this species would never have survived past the stone age."  
"Wholly untrue, Sherlock. If I had even a scintilla of free time, there's definitely someone here who would be worthy of my consideration..."  
"Do tell."  
"She's amazingly interesting, intelligent and quite attractive. God, I hope for everyone's sake she's one of the vaulted 73."  
"Mycroft!" Sherlock said annoyed that he was keeping secrets. "No more secrets between us, agreed? I agreed to answer anything you ask."  
"Yes. Quite right." Mycroft smirked.  
"So who?"  
"Doctor Andromeda Gale Eberhardt. Commonly known as Anna."  
"Eberhardt!" Sherlock laughed. "Been there, done that," Sherlock replied.  
"But... How? When?" Mycroft's jaw swung open as if the hinges were broken.  
"The UN assigned her as my psychiatrist years ago. They were afraid I wouldn't survive to save the world. We've had an off and on relationship ever since Irene," Sherlock told him. "And yes she survives. She is one of the 73, even though she isn't an Augment. Mycroft, she's an immortal."  
"Well, it was a nice thought, anyway. She's so aloof, how did you manage to charm such a woman?"  
"Mycroft...there will never be a permanent relationship between us, no matter how much she might like it. I love John. I know the difference between lust and love."  
"Be that as it may, my illusions are somewhat shattered. But, I'm glad that you seem to have found such a stimulating companion."  
"Once she discovers I have been lying to her all these years, she might not want anything to do with me."  
"That's too bad, Sherlock."  
"She seems to think I am suffering from dissociative identity disorder. I wonder what she will diagnose me as when she finds out that I have lived 14 other lives."  
"Sherlock, if her diagnosis is off base it's because you weren't forthcoming, not because she's incompetent."  
"I know that. But I can't love her like she would want. We actually fight more than anything."  
"Feelings, Sherlock. Most people have them. And if you fight a lot, it's probably because she calls you out. This woman is not a goldfish." Mycroft laughed out loud.  
"I was married for over 150 years, my 5 or 6th marriage, I think. Until the last 20 odd years of her life, she didn't even think I loved her. I just don't know how to do people," he admitted.  
"You may have finally met your match, and you can't process it!" Mycroft continued laughing uproariously.  
They were interrupted by the waiter bringing in the second helpings and desserts. There was almost complete silence until he left.  
"I will inform her of your interest during our next session when she tries to kill me."  
"That's a little dramatic, even for you, brother dear. Certainly the woman bears you no ill will."  
"Honestly, Mycroft. She can't give me what I need. Or to be more precise, not everything I need," Sherlock admitted. "It's not her...it's me."  
"Have you given up? Shame. She'd be a great addition to the family."  
"I don't make her happy. I will never be a monogamist."  
"Shame..." Mycroft chided, with his mouth full of food.  
"You'll soon discover that no Augment can be."  
"You're the one who sees the future, surely she doesn't spend her life an angry bitter shell of a woman? I don't see her as the type to waste away pining over what could have been."  
"Some choices are personal. She must make her own choice. But she has to accept me as I am not as she thinks I am."  
"I'd love to be a fly on the wall when you divulge your little secret."  
"Irene knew right from the start that we would never make it together. But it was fun while it lasted and well, who knows...we will be living rather close for the next 5 years."  
Mycroft shuddered dramatically. "Perish the thought."  
"It's just sex. Don't be alarmed."  
"I'm not alarmed! I am befuddled. You have steak in front of you, cooked to perfection, and yet... You're craving a cheap greasy fast food burger!!" Mycroft threw his head back and laughed maniacally.  
"I think the very thing that attracts me is what repels you," Sherlock told him. "The only lasting relationship I am interested in is John. And kindly cease insulting Irene. She is every bit as attractive as Anna."  
"And twice as detrimental to your safety and wellbeing."  
Sherlock smiled. "Quite deadly. If it was to her advantage, she would stab me in my sleep."  
"Too bad. But think of it this way. Dr Eberhardt is going to knock your block off when you tell her you've been lying to her. But I'm willing to wager that you two will follow that up with incredible love making. Or do you prefer the term 'fucking'?"  
"Hmmm, shagging is a much less harsh word," Sherlock considered as if they were not talking about anything personal.  
"Oh, it's not going to be a polite shag. Of that I am just about certain. I've seen her in the gym. And I've taken one of her fitness classes."  
"Makes me wonder if you know me at all, brother. We shall see. I am seeing her here in about an hour. She is the new Director of Mental Health."  
"Sherlock, believe it or not, I heard everything you've told me. I didn't address it, but that bit about being repelled by what attracts you did not blow by me. I'm sorry to have given it short shrift." Mycroft meets Sherlock's eyes, and reached across to pat the back of his hand.  
"When you have lived as long as I have it is difficult to give your heart and impossible to give it to just one."  
"So you say. But, she's immortal. Something tells me she might understand how you feel. Might even be able to come to terms if you would give her the courtesy of your honesty. At least as honest as you've been with me, Sherlock."  
"I can't tell her everything. I can't be as open with anyone else as I will be with you, in some things not even with John," Sherlock admitted.  
Mycroft cast his eyes to the floor, and pushed his plate away. Suddenly, he'd lost his appetite.  
Sherlock pushed his plate away and sat back with a sigh before sipping his tea. He put his cup down and he buried his face in his hands. "I don't like feeling," he muttered. "I don't like it at all."  
"Oh, Sherlock..." Mycroft left his chair, and rounded the table. He knelt on the floor next to his brother and tried his best to soothe him. He ran his hand up and down Sherlock's arm, then lifted his chin with his thumb and forefinger.  
"When I discovered that I was the destroyer of my home world, I ran away across time and space. I don't even have my Tardis anymore and I can't run away from this. I have lived with the fear that I am going to do it all again with Earth for so long now...why couldn't this have been a new start for me?"  
"It can be, Sherlock. Even given what you already know."  
Sherlock shook his head. "We are at the beginning of the time loop that I am trapped in. Eventually I will die and be reborn in a Gallifreyan body and everything will happen just as it has."  
"Certainly you know better than I, that nothing is permanent. This time, this place... It's all temporary."  
"I spent 4 billion years in a single day time loop once. The same thing over and over. Only one thing was different and I got out. But if I got to Gallifrey, I will just be continuing this time loop. It might be billions of years long but it will repeat for me. I wonder how many times it already has?"  
"If you don't know the answer to that, I certainly do not. All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy. Not ridiculously so, just stable and productive."  
Sherlock smiled and the years of the Time Lord showed in his eyes. "No one can." He took a deep breath, squeezing his brother's hand. "I am glad that I get to spend part of it with you. So shall we get on with saving the world?"  
"Yes, of course." Mycroft agreed. "But not until we've had our pudding."  
It was Sherlock's turn to laugh out loud. The brothers finished their meal, and made for the door, together.  
"Remember," Sherlock said. He placed a finger over his lips as a warning and a reminder.  
Mycroft cemented his understanding by giving a curt nod. "Yes, of course, brother mine. I will be the soul of discretion."  
When they finally left the dining room, the brothers went on their separate ways. Mycroft wondered if he should go back for his unfinished seconds, and Sherlock padded of for the lift.

 

"I don't understand at all," Mycroft told Dr Anna Eberhardt as he sat in her office with John. "You've both been treating Sherlock for 10 months now, and this is Sherlock's first communication to me. What does it mean? Who is this person in the picture?"  
"That's the 10th Doctor?" John said.  
"Doctor? Doctor who?"  
"Exactly," John said.  
"What?"  
"Doctor Who. The show. This is a work of fan fiction. Sherlock has put us all in it," John told them.  
"Does he have a brother called Wallace?" Anna asked.  
"Certainly not. He has two brothers. Sherrinford and myself."  
"Well then, this might suggest that Sherlock has given voice to his most vulnerable emotions by creating this brother character."  
"He hasn't tried to type a message to me. Most of the time I don't think he even knows I'm there, John told her.  
"Oh, he knows. Unless I miss my guess, you're going to play central role as this story plays out."  
"I don't pay you for guesses, Doctor. I pay you to do the best you can for my brother. The physical damage is quite shocking but the brain damage is..." Mycroft's voice nearly cracked at the emotion he was suppressing.  
"Sherlock will never be the man he was before. But we can help him to live the most fulfilling life he possibly can."  
"Even unable to communicate he still has a better mind than most," Mycroft commented.  
"That's definitely indicated by the quality of his writing, Mycroft."  
"But he can communicate now, as evidenced by this email to you, Mycroft," John added. "I didn't email it to you, he did. We just have to crack the code to find out what he is trying to tell us."  
"Well, I think the last bit is obvious, he was hungry when he wrote that," Mycroft said.  
"Not necessarily for food," Anna said. "He could be expressing a hunger for his former life before the fall."


End file.
